That Creepy Uppy Kinda Love
by SisiDraig - 2
Summary: Pairing: Dan/Jones - Jones wants to cheer Dan up whilst Dan notices their friendship taking a massive change.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: That Creepy Uppy Kinda Love (Stole from Tim Minchen)  
Summary: Dan finds his feelings for Jones changing slowly.  
Rating: K+  
A/N: This is my first fic and I'm _so _nervous about posting it. I guess this should be dedicated to Beansidhe Baby, because reading her stories about Dan and Jones and inspired me to write this. Hope you like it.**

* * *

Dan was miserable but wasn't he always? Claire hadn't noticed he was anymore or less miserable than normal but Jones had. He'd spotted something that no-one else would, or even could. He noted the subtle changes; the very subtle changes that had led Dan away from being just another miserable old git and quickly into the morbid, forlorn man that people unconsciously put on suicide watch.

Jones had often tried to cheer Dan up but he wasn't very good with things that weren't music. He lacked the proper conversational tools needed to construct the adequate conversation in this precarious situation. Jones was about as subtle as his music and his way of dealing with the delicacy of the situation so far had been to bound up to Dan and state, quite brashly; "Don't throw yourself off a building Dan"

Amazingly Dan had responded to this, though usually he ignored Jones, apart from the polite 'hello' or odd curt nod of acknowledgement and said; "Why?"

And, although Jones had eventually come up with; "People would miss you.", they both knew he'd taken too long to answer.

It had been a few days after Jones initial attempt to cheer Dan up that a second, more brilliant, plan had come to him; ice-skating. Nobody hated ice-skating. It was fun and not too childish. It was perfect. Jones beamed up at Dan when he'd suggested it mid-song. He hadn't known how to go about bringing it up so he'd just disguised the question as a song. He'd first done this sometime ago when he'd suspected Claire of eating the last of his ice cream, though on that occasion - unlike this one - the question had been lost in the power of the tune.

This time, Dan stared at Jones like he'd lost his mind.

"Ice-skating?" he repeated back to him.

The DJ nodded.

"You're mad."

And Jones looked immediately upset and turned back to the comfort of his music. Dan felt bad, a bit, not enough to make him apologize. Not until a lot later when Claire was at Nathan's.

"Jones." he'd said quietly when the DJ was taking a break from music to make himself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah?" he'd asked brightly, seemingly having completely forgotten about his previous knock-back.

"Ummm, I'mReallySorryAboutEarlierIKnowYouWereOnlyTryingToBeNice." he'd mumbled. It was the most pathetic apology ever. He'd not even managed to separate the words. It was a jumbled apology snake and any normal person would have shoved it, hissing and slithering, right back in Dan's face but Jones wasn't a normal person and he had just smirked lightly and said; "S'ok. I forgot all about it."

A low indistinguishable grunt was all Dan had been able to muster in response but it was all Jones had needed to pluck up the courage to say; "So, ice skating, wanna go?"

And, on a crazy, crazy whim, Dan had replied "Okay."

Jones' eyes had grown wide with surprise and he'd blinked several times before grinning broadly and saying; "Really? Great. I'll just go and get a coat."

Dan regretted it as soon as he'd said it. He didn't even know why he'd agreed. _Ice skating_ for god's sake. Cold, hard, wet, miserable ice skating. But somehow, the sight of Jones leaping around excitedly looking for a coat and some money made Dan feel a little less lousy about life.

"Ready?" the DJ beamed. Dan nodded silently and Jones grinned again and led the way out the front door.

"Where are you two going?" Claire asked as Jones bowled her over at the door. Neither man bothered to answer and Claire had to make do with an embarrassed nod of the head from her brother as he virtually chased the excitable DJ down the street.

*****

"You're going to love this." Jones said over and over again when they stood in the queue. In Dan's opinion, there were three types of people who went ice-skating; idiots, because going ice-skating is 'ironic, well ironic. And irony's cool.'; families, because they actually thought of the prospect of frozen ice, crying children and cold hands was a brilliant day out for the kids; and then, there was Jones. Jones didn't seem to fit into either of the above. He didn't think ice-skating was ironic and he certainly wasn't doing it for the kids; he just genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself.

Despite everything, Jones' enthusiasm was utterly infectious and Dan almost broke into a smile when Jones stepped on to the ice and fell straight on his arse, moaning loudly about the state of his now soaked jeans.

"Don't smirk." frowned Jones.

"I'm not."

"You fucking are."

Dan just shook his head and took a tentative step onto the rink. He slid perilously and grabbed the barrier with both hands, a look of pure terror on his world-weary face. Jones' childish laughter from behind him only served to make him more angry. He glared at the DJ, a look so ferocious that Jones' squeaked - actually squeaked, like a damned mouse or something - and slipped straight over again, sprawled out like a defeated dying fly letting out a long drawn out groan of '_owwwwwwwwwwwwwww_'.

Incredibly, it took Jones' over twenty minutes to get bored of sitting on his arse whilst the cocky kids in pristine white skates shot past him, prancing and pirouetting around like pros.

"Help me." he whined at Dan as he, slowly and steadily, pulled his way around on the railing with the Mum's and Granny's.

"You wouldn't need help if you didn't insist on attempting to race round like a speed skater."

"But it's fun."

"You're going to be bruised tomorrow."

Jones shrugged; "You gonna help me or not?"

"Not."

"What, why?"

"Because I'm not holding your hand. It'll look gay."

"Ooo Dan." Jones' giggled camping it up massively for the benefit of the surrounding skaters. Dan just gritted his teeth and pulled himself moodily away..

By the time he'd completed his next lap, Jones was clinging to the side frowning like a stroppy teenager, which in a way he was. Dan had never questioned the age of his flatmate but the DJ certainly didn't look more than about nineteen.

"This is shit." he moaned when Dan got close enough to hear him.

"Yep."

"My arse is freezing and my knee's are bruised. Can we leave?"

"Yep." Dan repeated in the same monotone way, not wanting to show how grateful he was.

As he dragged himself to the exit, he was alarmed to feel a pair of small hands grab his sides in an attempt to be towed to the side and was even more alarmed to find that he wasn't that bothered. He still batted the DJ away though, it wouldn't do for people to see them acting like that.

*****

They were sat in a café. A nice café, a much nicer café than Dan would have gone to but Jones had insisted and had persuaded Dan with the immortal words; "I'll pay."

"This is disgusting." spluttered Jones, placing the overpriced mug of coffee back on the table. "What's in it?"

"It's proper coffee."

"It's disgusting coffee." Jones' face screwed up , like a child being forced medicine, and he look so comical that Dan almost laughed, almost.

"You don't have to drink it." he pointed out, when Jones forced the liquid down his throat for a second time.

"Paid for it now." was the gagging response.

"You're an idiot."

It had been said offhandedly. He hadn't even meant he was _idiot, _he wasn't. Yes, he dressed like an idiot and he talked like an idiot and he even lived like an idiot but he was… different. Dan actually quite liked him and he had a incomprehensible amount of tolerance for the DJ. But now the younger man looked thoroughly dejected and hurt.

"I didn't…" Dan started weekly, Jones cut him off with an angry sniff and a mumbled; "S'ok."

It was always 'ok' where Jones was concerned. He let everything Dan did go. Always had, always would. Dan knew he'd taken advantage of Jones' generous disposition for years but that didn't mean he didn't care a bit. He did. He cared a lot. Just no-one knew it, not even Dan.


	2. Chapter 2

**I've just realised i didn't put a disclaimer on the first chapter. As I'm sure you know, Nathan Barley and all associated characters don't belong to me.**

**Thanks to 'Watcha' for reviewing.**

**

* * *

**

It was over before it began.

A haze.

A blur.

A shadow.

Roaring music.

Bleeding Ears.

Deafening tinnitus.

And then it was pain - just pain. He was face down against the cold, wet tarmac and the pain kept coming; over and over. Pain in his sides. Pain in his head. Pain in his face. And then, there was nothing. Nothing except… Who was that? In the distance. He tried to reach out to them but they were too far away. He couldn't… He couldn't… The pain came back. Sharper this time. Agonising. His breaths felt icy-cold and difficult. It was too much effort. He gave up. He stopped.

*****

The gentle bleeps of the machines had eventually lulled Dan off to an unsettled slumber. Then, in his dream, someone would scream and he'd lurch awake again. His eyes fell to the unconscious form of Jones. His breathing was shallow and his pulse was low - but he was alive. It was strange to see Jones so still. Jones was never still, not even in his sleep. He'd thrash about like freshly captured fish, arms and legs flailing around, kicking at whatever was near him and whatever was far from him. He'd often given Dan a kick in the head in the middle of the night, leaving the older man to ponder how he'd possibly managed it well into the early hours of the morning.

Now, still and deathly pale, Jones looked like some kind of fallen angel. Dan couldn't resist the urge to reach out and run the back of his hand gently along the other man's face. He felt partially responsible, though the nurses had reassured him that he'd done all he could have, given the circumstances. But it didn't feel like enough. He should have been there sooner. Jones had asked him to go to the gig, begged him over and over again. Whined and whinged adorably (though Dan would never consciously consider it adorable) but he had refused. He didn't want to seem too eager, especially not with the way their friendship had been going recently.

He wasn't sure, because he hadn't had any real friends for a long time, but he was pretty confident that _friends_ didn't creep onto other friends sofa's in the middle of the night and demand a _cuddle_ because they were _cold_. Dan always allowed him in though, even though it was clear the DJ was never cold; on the contrary, the warmth seemed to radiate from the younger man.

"I got your note." A voice snapped Dan back into the present. "What's happened?"

"They think he fell victim to some thugs." Dan sighed, looking up at his sister.

"He looks awful." Claire gasped, resting on the end of the bed.

"Don't disturb him." Dan cried, and after receiving an incredulous 'what the hell do you care?' look off his little sister, he frowned and finished, "The doctors said he needs his rest."

"Right, well you can go home if you want. You look like you could do with some sleep and the flat's nice and peaceful at the moment."

Dan just glared at her. Trust her to see this tragic accident as an excuse to get a few peaceful hours sleep but he _was_ exhausted, so he said thank you and trudged back to the flat.

He didn't sleep. He couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes he just remembered coming across Jones' body again; bleeding dry onto the icy tarmac. He remembered dropping to his knees, pulling out his mobile in a blind panic and ringing the ambulance. He remembered trying to feel for a pulse, wishing beyond prayer that the DJ would be okay. He remembered the ambulance men lifting Jones' limp body into the ambulance and then turning to him and saying; "Are you a friend of his?"

And he remembered, replying "No, we're just flat mates." and hating himself for being so cold.

"You're close though."

"Not particularly."

"So, why are you crying?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to Beansidhe_baby for reviewing.**

* * *

There'd been a weird atmosphere when Jones had returned to the flat. He'd suddenly needed looking after. Claire, who had _no _time for the over enthusiastic DJ, had left it all the Dan and Dan, who thought this would be the worst thing ever, actually began to enjoy being a doting... what? Flatmate seemed to harsh a word now, especially since Jones had begun to feel better and had constantly insisted on grabbing Dan's sleeve to pull him into a hug.

One such time, Jones' had been snuggled, child-like, into Dan's arms for a good twenty minutes, when Dan had said, "What are you doing?"

"What?" Jones blinked.

"Why are you...? Why are we...? What is..."

"You're looking after me Dan." the DJ smiled contentedly.

"but I..."

"oh shhh." Jones mumbled sleepily, his dainty fingers undoing and redoing the top button on Dan's shirt over and over again, which, surprisingly, felt incredibly natural. It was strange but Jones just seemed to fit there in Dan's arms, almost like he belonged.

They fell silent after that, Dan's fingers becoming tangled in Jones' black locks pulling gently as he unconsciously played with it, now and again provoking a quiet, relaxed moan from the DJ, which probably should have made him feel awkward but which actually filled with him a weird sort of pride.

"Hey Dan." Jones sighed.

"Mm?"

"D'you fancy me?"

"What?" he spluttered, sitting up sharply and tipping the younger man onto the floor. Jones whined loudly about being an invalid but Dan had been too stunned to care. He just sat deathly still, like a waxwork model.

"So what?" Jones frowned, heaving himself, with difficulty, back onto the sofa, "Was that a no?"

Dan wanted to scream; 'of course it's a no.' but what he actually did was open his mouth, let out a weird half syllable and close it again. He didn't 'fancy' Jones, he didn't 'fancy' men and he hadn't 'fancied' anyone since he was about fifteen, but something, something overwhelming was stopping him from conveying these thoughts out loud.

"It's okay, you know, being gay." Jones said softly, reaching gently to touch Dan's hand. Dan shuddered and pulled away sharply.

"D-. G-. Y-." Dan stuttered.

Jones' face crinkled confusedly; "What?"

And Dan, seeing the baffled look in the DJ's big blue eyes, got up and left without a word, leaving Jones wondering what had just happened.


End file.
